


The Slow Heart

by honey_wheeler



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Gen, Minor Canonical Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-18
Updated: 2019-10-18
Packaged: 2020-12-22 15:14:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21078902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honey_wheeler/pseuds/honey_wheeler
Summary: The others protect him because of the girl, because of Katniss, but you do not. You protect him because it seems he’s the last beautiful thing in this life and you’re determined that he won’t be lost, won’t be swept between the floorboards to be forgotten.





	The Slow Heart

Once you had a name. You can’t remember now if it was a good name, or a pretty name, whether you liked it or hated it or didn’t care one way or another. You remember hearing it over and over that year, the year you won. Maybe you wanted to forget it. Maybe you were right to.

There was a girl once, too. She was yours, that girl, that lovely girl with the soft brown eyes and the cheeks that dimpled even when she wasn’t smiling. Was she your daughter? Your sister? Your friend, your lover? Who can say anymore? You lost her, but you’re not sure how. The drugs make you lose the truth, or else they’re how you lost her in the first place, you don’t remember which. That’s what the drugs are for, after all. Forgetting. Either way, you lost her, like a trinket or a pin, something small and precious and easily swept into the cracks between the floorboards, until you hardly remember having it, knowing only that something you once loved is no longer yours.

He reminds you of your girl, this Peeta boy. His eyes are different and he has no dimples to speak of, but he’s like her nonetheless, kind and soft and easily lost. The others protect him because of the girl, because of Katniss, but you do not. You protect him because it seems he’s the last beautiful thing in this life and you’re determined that he won’t be lost, won’t be swept between the floorboards to be forgotten. Rebellion is a bit of a nobler cause than you’re cut out for. You were never the type to be part of a revolution, let alone start one. But beauty? Beauty, you understand. Kindness, you understand. The value of love freely given with nothing asked in return? That you understand all too well, all the more so for its absence.

The creature’s breath is foul when it hits you, its teeth sharper than any needle. You’ve grown accustomed to needles, so maybe that’s why you’re not afraid. You’d forgotten how strong pain could be, how it could burst under your skin like fireworks, bright and hot and extravagant. It’s almost an indulgence to feel pain again after so long. It’s almost like welcoming back an old friend. 

He holds you as you die, the boy. That kind, soft, easily lost boy. Your life slips away, one more thing you’ve lost, another thing forgotten, and he watches you. More than that, he _sees_ you.

“Look up,” he says to you, “look at the colors.” 

“It’s okay,” he says.

You know he’s wrong. Not lying – such a boy would never lie to you – but wrong. You love him for it, though. He watches you. He sees you and that’s enough.


End file.
